


The Inadequacies of Reality

by L122YTorch (orphan_account)



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1245280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/L122YTorch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is unquestionable that Loki is "burdened with glorious purpose," but who bestowed upon him this "purpose?" Will he fulfill his "destiny," or have his feelings for Thor given him new perspective? Find out these things and more...in this fantastical, fanfiction-al journey, written for T12's Fanfic Contest!</p><p>*Warning - Actual Plot Within*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Loki's pale fingers ghosted over the chains that bound his hands. He lifted them up to his neck slowly, touching the collar, feeling the grooves in the metal that was meant for battle armor but destined to bind his magic instead.

Even in his infinite eloquence, with his expansive vocabulary, Loki could not describe the immense pain that existed in being a prisoner, in having his abilities stifled. He was a warrior, a king, wasting away in a display box. 

If he wasn't mad to begin with, surely imprisonment wouldn't help his sanity.

He would often spend hours reading, or performing small illusions.

Brows knitted, he looked down at his hands, and felt the cool metal of the mouthguard hit his chest as he lowered his chin. Why was he chained? Here in his cell? 

A tinge of panic flourished in his chest. In his mind, he reached for whatever events led to this, but couldn't even remember being shackled. It was hard to breathe, hot in his cell, and the chains pulled at his porcelain skin. He groaned, but his voice was captured by the mouthpiece. 

He surged forward, but was jerked back by a link that held him to the back wall. Looking past his bounds he saw no guards, no other prisoners in the dungeon; the passageway was dark. It didn't make sense. 

So he stood still, his mind furiously working at the knots of logic that wouldn't untangle.

Did some emergency arise, and the guards left him in their haste? Was Asguard being attacked? Was he left to die - starved, chained, hot, unable to use his magic?

Despite knowing it was futile, Loki recoiled mentally and physically, and in a singular surge, lunged forward, screaming.

He was supposed to hit the cool floor of his cell, which is why it shocked him when he hit the cold, wet ground. His locks, chains, collar and mouthpiece were gone. 

Groaning, he lifted his head, his eyes unaccustomed the the bright golden sun. He was in the streets of Asgard, but this was not his time, not his place, even his clothes dematerialized and regenerated in a fashion that had to have been tens of thousands of years old.

He slowly rose, looking around with wide eyes. When he looked down, he could still see the red marks that the cuffs had pressed into his skin. 

Was any of this real? Perhaps Thor had devised a new form of mental torture to inflict upon him; but that seemed too harsh, even for his furious brother.

Loki surveyed the scene, he was in a marketplace - determining his location from where the palace sat, towering over the land. His breath was even, his mind was subduing the cries of confusion, his green eyes scanned the surrounding area.

What was he to do in this situation?

His first thought was to return to the palace, the only thing that seemed familiar to him, so he began to walk in that direction.

No one looked at him oddly, no one engaged him, and he engaged no one. He simply walked until he reached the first level of gates that guarded the place he once called home.

After an hour of walking, he finally saw the large golden gates rising from the ground.

"Where do you think you're going?!" one of the guards chuckled. "You walk up to these gates as if you own the palace. The guard was fat, his beard was to his belly, and his brown eyes flickered with joviality in the mid day sun. Clearly, he did not see Loki as a threat. 

Loki didn't dare ask a soul what the date or year was, for fear of being considered mad, but from the clues in dress, scenery and language, it was clearly before his time. 

"I wish to see…Bor," he said carefully. The guard looked at him seriously for as long as he could, before laughter spilled from his lips. "You wish to see Bor, creator of the universe?" he laughed so hard that he was half-bent over, his hand clutching the armor on his stomach. 

Once the fit was over, he looked back at Loki, whose stoic expression had not changed. Clearly this Asgardian was not sane, he thought. He cleared his throat and assumed his formal position.

Fixing his demeanor, he said cooly, "only one personally requested by Bor, or given permission by Bor, can enter these gates. And since ye have no decree or papers, I cannot allow ye to pass."

Loki felt frustration burn in his fingertips, and considered the use of magic; but decided against it; for he would have to personally fight the entire city to reach his grandfather.

Just as the scheming wheels began to turn, he heard a loud rumble and crack, then watched as the main doors were thrown open, and a being was expelled onto the never ending stream of stairs. He tumbled down half of them, before coming to a stop, pushing himself up, and subduing his mane of jet black hair with dignity. He walked the rest of the way down the stairs, and when he reached the gate that Loki stood at, the guards opened it and let the man out.

The mysterious Asgardian had his head hung, Loki could not see his face, until Loki reached out and put a hand on the man's shoulder. The male looked up, and Loki inhaled sharply, for his face seemed fully familiar.

The Asgardian was older than he, with a scar near his chin, and features that looked much like Loki's. Except that his build was greater - all muscle and tendon, like Thor's.

The man smiled sharply, with lips that curled like blades, his green eyes glowed in satisfaction. "I have sought you, and you are here," the man whispered, stepping so close to Loki that he could feel the others breath. "It seems as though this day is turning around after all."

"You sought me?" Loki asked in confusion "Who are you?"

The man gestured, and in a flash of light, they had gone from the gates, and appeared in a secluded passage-way. "I…Loki…am you. And you, I," the man answered. 

Loki squinted, but stood silent and waited for him to continue.

"My name is Fjolmoor, and it is my mission to destroy the house of Bor."

"Why do you wish to do so? And how are you and I, one in the same?"

Fjolmoor began pacing and weaving his tale... 

"We are the same because there is a piece of my soul in you Loki. I have been slighted by the kingdom, by Bor. I used to be in his good graces, until he tired of me," he scowled.

"I spent my life, a sorcerer at his hand, in times of battle and times of peace. I dedicated my life to perfecting my craft, to becoming the most powerful sorcerer in the land. But Bor began to look down upon Seior, upon me, and cast me from the palace."

Loki kept still, taking in what Fjolmoor was saying, but not quite believing it. The old Asguardian's eyes swept over his form, regarded his demeanor and expression, then continued.

"I had a son two hundred years ago, named Svadilfari. The more he grew, the more powerful he became. He would have become the greatest sorcerer this realm had ever seen, and this threatened Bor."

The Asgardian stopped pacing, and looked at Loki, with unshed tears pooling in his eyes. But they were not tears of sadness, they were an expression of fury and bitterness.

"Bor had forbidden me to practice Seior, because it only strengthened my gifts. But I could not stop, and I passed my knowledge to my son, who quickly grew stronger than I," his voice trailed off.

"So Bor had him killed," he finished curtly.

Then he smiled and waved a knowing finger at Loki, "and he shall have me killed as well, I've seen it in a dream. Dreams are my specialty."

Loki sighed and shook his head slightly. 

"And what role do I play in this?" Loki inquired. 

"The role that I cannot…will not finish," Fjolmoor hissed. "For what Bor has done to me, you are tasked with destroying the house of Bor…the house of Odin," he grabbed Loki's shoulders. 

"Frigga will help your sorcery flourish, but it is my power, and the power of my fallen son that give you your true magic, your true strength."

The man brought a hand up to Loki's angular face and ran his fingers down it before tangling them in the dark hair that splayed from his neck. He looked at Loki affectionately, as if he were his creation. 

"I can feel the hesitancy within you, your mind questioning what I've said."

"How do you know what my mind does?"

"Because Loki…it is my mind as well. You are me…just in another time. I am the reason you exist. I am the reason that you are burdened with glorious purpose. And now is the time, that you must team with death, and defeat Bor," Fjolmoor said. 

"And how do you suppose I defeat the great and powerful Bor?"

"You will discover the way Loki. Just remember, in your quest, not to let your feelings for Thor stand in your way," Fjolmoor emphasized with gritted teeth, a hand painfully locked onto the back of Loki's head, ground up in his hair.

Just as a snapping retort formed in Loki's mind and rose in his throat, Fjolmoor removed his vice grip, and pushed the fallen prince backward with all of his might. But instead of hitting the wall behind him in the passageway, Loki fell downward, smacking his head on the polished palace floor.

He knew that his head was spinning, despite his eyes being shut, so he waited a moment before opening them. But once he did, he saw Thor standing over him.


	2. Chapter 2

Loki was not easily brought to pain…or confusion…and yet, lying on the glossy palace floor, he was experiencing both. His head throbbed, there was a deafening ringing in his ears, and although he could make out Thor's figure, there were two of him in his vision. But Loki wasn't complaining.

He blinked several times and looked around the room. It was a cell, but a nicer cell than he had been previously kept in. He groaned and propped himself up on his forearms. Thor kneeled over him, concern apparent on his face.

"Loki, are you all right?" he whispered.

The trickster seemed dazed and lost. A thousand thoughts were fluttering through his mind at once. Maybe he truly had gone mad.

"What's going on?" he asked tentatively.

Thor let out a heavy breath and folded his body up as he took a seat on the floor next to Loki. "You were asleep," Thor started, his gaze troubled. "You were in your cell and you went to sleep one night, only…you did not wake the next morning. When you did not stir, you were brought to the healing chamber."

Loki's heart fell. 

For the smallest moment before Thor began the explanation, Loki wondered if…in this reality…he would be understood…would be loved. But he wasn't jumping between realities…he had simply been asleep. Suddenly, he yearned to return to the past.

"Your body was deemed healthy, yet we could not wake you," Thor continued. "You were asleep for ten days - up until this moment. On the fourth day, you were brought to this room," he paused, looking around at the ornate carvings and molding details that adorned the columns and ceiling. 

"A healer was sent to keep watch over you, though nothing changed."

"And I miraculously awoke?" Loki queried, tired of being so confused. 

Thor cleared his throat and shifted where he sat. "Well…I…placed my hand on your face, and you began to stir. But soon you were flailing and fighting with me, even with your eyes closed. You fell from the bed and once you landed, you stopped struggling and after a moment…you awoke."

Loki sat up. He felt exhausted, despite apparently having been asleep for ten days. 

Thor's demeanor was entirely different from anything he'd experienced in the last three decades. The god was soft spoken, gentle in his movements and intently focused on Loki. Yet, there was still a hesitancy beneath his benevolence. 

"Loki…did you do this?" he ventured. "Was this some spell…some trick?" 

A hint of disappointment flickered across Loki's eyes and provided Thor with his answer.

"No…this was not my doing brother," he said careening towards the blonde, as he got up to his feet. Thor followed. They stood in the beautiful prison cell, swallowed by silence. The only thing that made it a prison was the golden forcefield that joined two pillars to three walls.

Thor stood disarmingly close to Loki.

"Did you dream while asleep? Do you remember anything that may have happened before all of this? Will you be all right?"

For the first time in many days, Loki's mischievous grin stretched across his face. He was thoroughly amused at the sight of Thor's concern and confusion.

He remembered the "dream" with such clarity that it was startling, even his body felt hot from the noonday sun that kissed his skin as he talked to the guard, and then to Fjolmoor. 

"I am surprised that you show such concern for me Thor," was his response.

Instantly, Thor's face fell and the tension between them returned. "Despite what you think Loki, I still care about your fate."

"Of course you do Thor. You have to. After all, it concerns your destruction, does it not?"

"I do not believe that you want to destroy me Loki."

"Oh, so that time that I stabbed you didn't make it clear enough?" Loki growled, poking at the point in Thor's abdomen where the wound was inflicted. "Perhaps you should give me another knife, and we shall test your theory."

Touching Thor's armor sent a shiver up Loki's arm.

Fjolmoor's words echoed in Loki's mind, "do not let your feelings for Thor stand in your way." 

When those words were spoken, Loki felt sick. He knew that he harbored affection for Thor, but hearing it out loud, somehow made it more real. It was like a tangible thing that sat in his chest and sometimes wandered to his mind, pulling at his thoughts, stealing his sleep. 

"Why?" Thor stepped even closer. "Why do you hate me so much brother?" the words stung on Thor's lips and vibrated in the small space between them. His crystal blue eyes were filled with hurt and anguish as they searched Loki's soul.

They stood like this, face to face, for at least a minute, 'til Thor's head tilted, his eyes squinting.

"Maybe you don't hate me at all," Thor nearly whispered in a tone of realization. "Maybe you hate yourself, for loving me." 

The words washed over Loki like a tidal wave, pulling him under, making it impossible to breathe. What if Thor was right? What if what he truly detested was love, was his own weakness, was himself? No. This was absurd. He hated Thor, and for what Thor just dared to say, he hated him even more.

Only an instant after the last syllable was uttered by Thor, Loki delivered a crushing blow to his brothers cheekbone. Reeling, Thor smacked his head on the bed that Loki had spent the last six days in, and cracked the wooden frame with the force of it. 

Loki slipped in another well-timed punch, and then Thor tackled him to the ground. 

Guards rushed to the scene, but Thor sat atop Loki and already had him subdued.

"BACK!" Thor rumbled, his head turned over his shoulder towards the small herd of guards. They scattered like mice upon the command. Loki struggled beneath Thor, but it was futile. He was hungry, thirsty, exhausted, and his arms were pinned above his head. He bucked up, but stopped in horror when Thor ground his hips down, sliding his crotch against Loki's.

The trickster's eyes were wide with astonishment- his pupils blown from the thrill of the fight that had quickly morphed into the black heat of lust. 

"Get off me!" he nearly screamed in his most commanding voice, his neck craning up off the floor, but Thor's hands only tightened further around his wrists. He could feel his own pulse thumping in rebellion against the strong calloused fingers.

He detested feeling helpless, and was too depleted to put up a fight or use magic.

"You never lied when you said that you were out for me Loki," Thor ignored his brother's request for relief. "But I think that you want me in ways that do not involve death." 

By now Loki's face was red, his facade of fury was cracking and arousal began to show through. 

"Learning you were not my brother may have been your worst day," Thor said, bringing his face to Loki's. "But it could also be your best." 

Loki's hips bucked up involuntarily, a heady moan slipping through his teeth. Never had he been so simultaneously infuriated and aroused.

Thor's mouth formed a perfect little 'o' in reaction to feeling Loki's impressive length pressing against his balls, still clad in black leather. 

Loki's head rolled back, exposing the brilliant white expanse of his pulsing neck, turned away from Thor. It was like seeing freshly fallen snow cover a field, and Thor wanted to taste it, to see if it was cold. He brought his mouth to it, and darted out a tongue that licked it's way to Loki's angular jar that jutted upward, like a mountain rising from the valley. 

Loki's eyes were locked tight, as if the action could suppress what he was feeling. Thor's tongue was as hot as flame on his neck, burning a trail of fire as it spread up to his jaw, where it culminated in a kiss on his sharp jawbone.

Thor took a moment away from his ministrations to look at Loki's face.

"If you wish for me to stop, I shall," Thor said, his voice deep, dripping with sex. Just the tenor of it could undo Loki.

"Just say the word."

"Stop!" Loki gritted out immediately. 

And before the word was even done reverberating off the walls, Thor released his grip, stood, and left Loki lying on the ground.

Loki looked up at his brother, who seemed both shocked and disappointed. The golden god gulped, his adams apple bobbing beneath tan skin. "Before I leave…tell me Loki…did you dream while asleep?" Thor asked once more.

"No," Loki spat, flexing his hands to get the feeling back in his fingers.

Thor looked down at the ground, his long blonde eyelashes sweeping open and closed over eyes that swam with questions. 

He gave a slight nod, turned, and requested a guard. 

"Return Loki to his cell," he ordered, before disappearing out of the forcefield and around the corner.


	3. Chapter 3

The cell was small, but familiar. His items dotted the tiny white landscape. A book with spells here, a fur cloak there, a worn blanket in the corner. It smelled like Loki, it felt like Loki, but it wasn't home.

He paced back over to the see-through barrier that separated him from the rest of the world. He couldn't even reach a hand out of the bars, as he would be able to if imprisoned on Midguard.

Desperately he wanted his nose to taste the air outside of this enclosure. He bowed his head, forehead resting on the forcefield that glowed yellow, the light seeping past his closed eyelids.

Loki spent the next few hours restlessly wandering about his cell. He had a taste of freedom, and apparently it wasn't easy to reacclimatize. Lying down on his bed, Loki closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He could smell Asguard, the way the air lingered with the scent of lunch. He could feel the hot sun on his back, pushing him forward, pushing him toward Fjolmoor.   
He couldn't shake the image of the man who looked so much like himself. The way the man's green eyes sparkled in the light of day, the way his voice fell as he talked about his son.

The god of mischief turned over in bed and shut his eyes tighter still. But the man remained. If he stilled his breathing just enough, he just might hear Fjolmoor's voice whispering into his ear. "It is my mission to destroy the house of Bor."

Loki had considered destiny, but the idea angered him. He wanted control of his future. And to think that he was…is…this dead Asguardian's puppet…seems absurd for a being who was born to rule. 

He didn't believe in reincarnation, he didn't want to believe in destiny…

The night seemed to drag on, it's darkness never-ending. Loki didn't want to sleep.

"You will do as I have asked of you," a figure said, emerging from the hallway. It was Fjolmoor. Loki sprang to his feet and walked toward the barrier. "How did you get here?" he asked in disbelief.

"As if that matters," Fjolmoor answered with contempt, walking towards Loki, crossing the barrier. The man's face looked sharper, more angular, as it was draped in shadows. His eyes nearly glowed beneath burrowed brows.

"You consider yourself so wise Loki Laufeyson, yet you can be so foolish."

Anger boiled beneath Loki's skin. "I am no one's puppet," he spat. "Not even you're own?" Fjolmoor answered. "You and I want the same thing, because we are the same person," he yelled. Veins stood up on his neck, beneath pale skin. He drew closer.

"You wish to destroy Odin, as I wish to destroy Bor. I have sacrificed so much to get here, and I shan't fail just because of your doubt," Fjolmoor screamed, his hot breath skimming over Loki's face.

"You will team with death," Fjolmoor jabbed a finger at his chest, "and you will succeed."

As the Asguardian uttered the words, a black steam rose from the ground. 

Loki felt a crushing sadness and fear settle in his chest. A cold wet tear streaked down his face and glistened as it fell. He could not contain how seeing this … darkness made him feel - like every emotion in his body was screaming all at once.

The steam formed a cloud, from which a beautiful woman stepped out. 

"Do not let Thor stand in your way," Fjolmoor said, ignoring the presence of the woman with jet black hair and golden eyes. She placed a bone white hand upon Fjolmoor's shoulder and walked past him.

"You cannot deny your destiny," the woman said in a velvet voice that rang clearly above sounds of chaos that rose and fell around her presence. "You want too much."

"I want to be king."

"You want to be loved," she sneered, coming up to Loki's face. 

It was hard to breathe, the sounds of chaos were so loud that his ears rung in agony and blood began to drip from his nose.

"You think that if you do this - kill Bor…that you will lose Thor completely. But who ever said that he has to know?" her words were ice on Loki's face, his vision began to fade. She put a hand on his chest and pushed him backwards.

Loki awoke with a gasp, heaving gallons of air in and out of his lungs, his own hand grasping his chest.

Thor knelt above him, just as he had earlier that day.

Loki looked pale, startled, lost.

His eyes searched Thor's and were met with immeasurable anguish. 

"What happened?" he asked his once-brother.

"You died," Thor whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

After spending five minutes dead, Thor wouldn't let Loki out of his sight. Which was absurd, because what could Thor do to save him anyway? But Loki wasn't about to complain about being released from his cell. 

He kept everything from Thor…he told his brother nothing of Fjolmoor, Bor, his dream, death…nothing.

"How many times must I watch you die brother?" Thor said, head bent, words spoken into his chest. He was folding something.

"Oh I don't know…the first two times don't really count."

"How can you make light of this?" Thor's expression reeked of disgust. "Do you understand…" Thor's words trailed off, but Loki picked them up "…understand what it puts you through?"

Thor nodded.

"After all I've done, after knowing who I truly am," Loki said impassioned, rising from his seated position, "how can you continue to mourn for me?"

Thor was silent.

"You should be glad to see me dead," Loki gritted out. 

"Never," Thor replied brokenly.

Their conversation came to a halt. The fire crackled beneath the massive hearth in Thor's chambers, filling the silence.

"You let your feelings stand in the way of your success," Loki said aloud, not sure whether the words were for himself or his brother. Thor lumbered towards him.

"And what will I have achieved, what is the success in seeing my brother dead?"

"You will have achieved the elimination of a threat," Loki yelled. "How are you so blind brother?" he closed the distance between them.

"How are you?" Thor shouted, grabbing Loki's neck. His pulse shook beneath Thor's fingers, there was an edge of anger in the curve of the thunderers lips, a look of betrayal flitting across his blue eyes. 

"Would it kill you to say that you actually care about me?" 

There was a vulnerability in Thor's voice that shook Loki's resolve. He knew what was being asked of him. He was being asked what was more important…the betrayal he suffered and the ensuing revenge he sought, or the idea that something…that someone…could be more important.

The problem was…that both were important. Loki wanted both. 

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but became distracted by Thor's lips that parted in anticipation. He waited with baited breath and Loki relished in the anticipation. He delighted in the firm grasp around his neck, in the way that the lack of oxygen made his heart pound even harder. Or perhaps that was Thor's doing.

"Some things are not so easy to say," Loki finally replied, pushing his own neck into Thor's grip, bringing his face closer. "But that doesn't mean it isn't true," his lips ghosted over Thor's. It was like basking in the rays of the sun. Thor was taught, coiled to strike, his muscles shining in the light of the fire, his sky blue eyes gleaming in the dim light.

Maybe Thor didn't have to know, maybe he wouldn't find out, or maybe he would. Either way…Loki could have him…here in this moment. And when a man is dying of thirst, he hardly considers pouring water out on the ground. Such a moment would be a crime to waste.

But it scared Loki how much he wanted it, how desperately he desired Thor to be on him, under him, in him. He wanted to crawl into Thor's skin and feel what it was like to be universally loved, even if only for a moment.

Thor closed the gap between them in a bruising clash of a kiss. His lips were rough, dried by the summer's heat. His body was skilled but overpowering. It was an experience that Loki could easily drown in.

For the first time he felt something that wasn't akin to fury, betrayal or sadness, and that feeling scared him more than death herself.


End file.
